


looking for closure

by seren0n



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Autistic Character, Developing Relationship, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trust Issues, i cant reasonably tag angst but it is Emotionally Stressful, kinda??? we all wish they would just talk it out from the get go, not the focus but theres like ten million hints towards sniper being autistic so!, this is Not porn all the sex is in the background/interrupted by development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren0n/pseuds/seren0n
Summary: Sniper wants to know where he stands with Spy in their vague mutual agreement, Spy's concerned with keeping his job secure, and they're both having a hard time admitting they love each other.Featuring jokes about sex with the lights off, good drunk advice, loving your coworker so much it's giving you heart problems, and the stressful yet relieving feeling when you aren't bitten in the ass after you trust someone with things that make you uncomfortable about yourself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so! wow! okay! this was gonna be something small, i usually have trouble writing large things, and then three weeks later the final product is about 8k! i'm splitting it into two chapters entirely because it makes the pacing tastier and also i need to do final editing tweaks, but here yall go!!!!! tell me if you like it god please!!!!
> 
>  **big ole precursor:** i wrote this bc i want more trans content that isnt easy to consume porn, i'm trans, but i'm not a trans man and i'd very much appreciate critique!! yeah anyway enjoy!!

 

He really wishes Spy would have sex with him.

Admittedly, he’s often wishing that while he’s on his stomach getting fucked by the man himself, a passtime they came to an understanding about a while back. It’s not a scheduled occurrence, they just both get bored with the futility of their jobs sometimes and have no issues with finding a secluded spot to get off in. Sniper enjoys it plenty.

It’s just that Spy doesn’t seem willing to get off with him any other times, and that stings a bit.

 

… Okay, it’s more than that. It’s one thing when it’s just business, and sometimes that happens, and sometimes you get attached, and it’s awkward until you learn to live with it. It’s another thing when the coworker you’re fucking is only willing to fuck you from behind or in the dark, won’t let you see his dick, or touch his dick, or do anything with his dick that doesn’t involve it going inside you, and whatever that’s called is where Sniper draws the line. Sure, everybody can make all the jokes in the world about sex with the lights off, but actually doing it turns out to be real high up on Sniper’s ‘most depressing experiences’ list, and he’d rather do literally anything else.

He’s had a couple guesses as to why Spy’s so cagey. The first was Spy’s theoretical opinion of Sniper’s tits, that one didn’t sit right with him. The second one was Spy’s theoretical opinion of fucking a man, even if he’s fucking a trans man, and that one didn’t sit right either. The third one is the job, and that felt like it had the most solid ground. He’s good at the job, there’s not a man on the base that knows what Spy looks like, under the mask or the suit, and there’s a high chance that Spy’s not about to break that record anytime soon (even if he already should have to Medic).

It’s not unfair that Spy wants to keep his privacy, it’s probably somewhere in his contract that he has to, but Sniper can’t help feeling like he’s not being very trusted in their arrangement. He did out himself for this, and that’s not a small thing he’ll do for just anybody. It’s also probably worth something as black market dirt somewhere, and he’d be an idiot to assume Spy doesn’t know that. But he hasn’t heard of anyone trying to do anything about it either, presuming Spy even used it, which unfortunately means he feels quite at ease revealing even more things about himself in an effort to be friendly. It’s a total coincidence that Spy happens to know his name outside work, his birthday, his sillier hobbies, and might even have a copy of Sniper’s van keys thanks to a particularly poorly thought-out situation. It’s fine of course, for being friendly, but how’s his own list of dirt on Spy?

Well, he knows the man’s voice, what he smokes, his fashion preferences, and that he’s a good fuck. All of which can be changed at a moment’s notice when you’re a master of espionage, like Spy just so happens to be. He’s very aware of how lacking he is in the blackmail game, though he hopes he’ll never need to improve. He’d just like them to be on more mutual grounds for exchange than they are now, and if he can’t get that, he’d at least want an idea of where to draw the line between them.

Either way, Spy’s definitely the most skilled fuck he’s ever had, given they do it about once a month and he’s not even sure the man’s dick is real.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The best time to ask about your fuckbuddy status? Right when you’re being tugged into a dark closet just at the end of a match, apparently.

As soon as the door shuts Spy’s gloves are on his collar, his vest, tugging insistently at his belt, and Sniper’s breath picks up in an instant. Spy murmurs a smooth “strip” into his ear and he doesn’t even think about it, just pops the first two buttons of his shirt and helps Spy get the belt off. He knows that if he’s going to ask, it needs to be before they start fucking, so now or never. He’ll probably wish he’d picked never as soon as he asks.

“So when’d be a good time for me to blow you?”

_Bloody fantastic casual delivery there Mundy, really impeccable way with words._

Spy must’ve thought so too, it sounds like he chokes on his own spit and his hands lose their grasp on Sniper’s torso. When they don’t come back for several long, silent seconds Sniper has to wonder if Spy perfected teleporting out of rooms while nobody was looking before he hears the distinctive click of a lighter, and a small glow starts hovering near Spy’s mouth. Guess the bastard’s just gonna smoke in a closet then.

“You really thought _now_ is the best time to talk?”

No, he really didn’t. His foot taps on the cement floor. “Am I ever gonna get a best time? We don’t exactly meet up on the regular and go out for dinner dates."

“And I’m not taking you on any, your manners are disgusting.”

“Manners are overrated.” He snorts at the dimly illuminated curl of Spy’s lip, and rolls his shoulders back. “I know you’re a stickler for revealin’ anythin’ about yourself, but we’ve fucked over a dozen times and y’aren’t some stranger I’d go braggin’ over. Y’not trust me enough?”

Spy looks like he smiles, though maybe he’s grimacing. Tough to say with only a bit of his face visible. “What makes you think you’re worth trusting to me?”

“Nothin’. I just… I think it’d just be nice, y’know, if you could put some effort into reciprocatin’ _somethin_ ’ with me. I mean for all I know I’m just a pair of tits an’ a hole for you to get off on.”

“Sniper I’d never--”

“No, I don’t think y’would, but I dunno all that much about you frankly, and you sure know a damn lot about me, which I’m a bit sick of. Christ’s sake, I showed you my cock before anybody else an’ that’s a lot for me!”

“Mund--”

“It’s a bloody lot for me and y’just… y’just took it and never really y’know, acknowledged it?” His voice cracks, and he can feel his face heating up the way it does when he’s getting emotional. He really hopes he doesn’t tear up, even if it wouldn’t be visible behind his shades. “So… I dunno, are you just messin’ with me? Does this mean anythin’ to you?”

“... Are you finished?”

Prick. “Yeah I’m fuckin’ finished, talk.”

Spy exhales smoke, clears his throat the way he does when he’s trying too hard to sound aloof. “I don’t think you’re... being quite fair to me about this. I can see that you’re displeased with the limits of our arrangement, but I think I have _good reasons_ ,” he grinds out, enunciating over Sniper’s huff of protest. “ _Very_ _good_ reasons, for not being an open book to you, some of which cannot be dismissed just because you say that you _trust_ me.”

“Not up for takin’ a risk? Doesn’t sound very spy-like to me.”

“It sounds very _dead spy_ -like to _me_.”

“If you really thought y’might die from sharin’ anythin’ personal ever, y’wouldn’t be in this closet with me.”

“I would not be with you at all if I did not trust you to some small degree, bushman. We aren’t so dissimilar, It’s not as if it was easy for you to reveal _your_ …”

There’s a long, presumptuous pause with that. “… Status.”

“My _status_. You’re gonna pull one’a these?”

“I’m trying to pull sympathy out of your thick skull. You think this situation is any easier for me?”

Sniper crosses his arms. “I _think_ you’re buyin’ time by dodgin’.”

“How am I _dodging?_ I’m addressing your concerns by explaining my side!”

“You’re comparin’ my coming out to your contract’s privacy statement! Those aren’t _remotely_ the same an’ you know it!”

“That is not what I meant!” Spy’s teeth peek out around his cigarette, if it were brighter it’d be clear he’s be scowling, and Sniper would be too.

“Oh it’s not, is it? Y’seem pretty concerned about gettin’ yourself off the hook with an easy comment. You rather we be fuckin’ instead? That where your interest is?”

“Can you _please_ just--”

“No actually, y’know what? I don’t wanna hear it.” And just like that, Sniper’s hiking his trousers back up and loosely slipping his belt back into place. “Maybe I’ll listen more when we aren’t in a bloody sex closet and you can properly ask in front’a my face.”

He doesn’t care to pay Spy’s rapid-fire protesting any mind, pushing out of the closet and setting off with as casually stiff a stride he can manage. There’s no getting around his clothes looking like he had an angry wank, but he’ll change them once he can catch a break. He gives Engineer a scare when he passes by so suddenly, but the Texan doesn’t stop him to ask, which is probably for the best.

He really needs to think out what he wants. From Spy and himself. Maybe take a week off from being sober and see if that gets him anywhere new.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What I dunnae get is why ye even bother with him.”

Sniper hums, dragging his whetstone across his kukri while marginally paying Demo’s professionally drunk opinions some mind. The motions are comforting, even if he doesn’t actually need the blade any sharper.

“He’s a right bloody cunt he is, tryin’ a move like-- mate I ken yer stressed but yer killin’ my head doin’ that.”

“Huh?” His shoulders tense, he’s loathe to just sit there staring at the wall as they both get drunk and rant at each other, but it’s not a good idea to piss off the one friend he has in this emotionally trying time. He settles for dragging his fingers on the flat of the metal instead after a pause. “Sorry mate.”

“Aye, cheers. Ye got that look again, y’know.”

“Which look?”

The scotsman snorts, sloshing the dregs of his beer around thoughtfully. “It’s th’ one where yer upset that yer feelin’ upset over somethin’. He’s bein’ a prick, yer right to tell him he can sod off.”

“Could’a done it better though,” Sniper mumbles. Demo’s right, not that the guy can take his own advice, but Sniper personally would rather be blackout drunk in an alleyway than start handling his own emotional fallout. Nevermind that Spy hates getting off his high horse and swallowing his pride, especially when he won’t think the issue is his fault.

“Ye wouldn’ be sittin’ here if ye were only blamin’ yerself, an’ I’m with ya on that, but ye cannae both be too proud to step up or ye may never speak again. An’ then where would the two’a ya be?”

“Not my bloody problem.” His finger strays too close to his kukri’s edge, though he’s experienced enough to keep from pressing down. It’d mess up his shooting for a good week.

“I think it is, laddie.”

“Fine, so what if it is? I can’t _do_ much about it, s’not like it’s small when he could probably lose his bloody job over it, an’ then it really _would_ be my damn fault.” He slumps back in his chair, pushing his blade to the side. His fingers twitch anyway, maybe he needs to start carrying around a stress ball. Demo must have read his mind, he hands over a stray baked potato for lack of something squishier. It’s the thought that counts.

“Ye’ve already avoided him fer a good week, aye?” Demo scratches at his beard, humming softly. “I dunnae think he’ll leave ye unaddressed longer than a month.”

“A _month?_ Y’really think the bastard’s jus’ gonna sober up one mornin’ an’ come bangin’ at my door?”

“If yer not gonna be confrontin’ him anytime soon. Pride or no, he dunnae like to leave things undone fer ages, he’ll go lookin’ fer closure.

He snorts at that. “I’ll give him some bloody closure alright.”

“Ye could do with some closure yerself, Mundy.”

He can’t really refute that one, even if he wants to, so he opts to kick back and chug down his half-forgotten bottle of booze instead. Unfortunately, having good drunk advice isn’t catching.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sniper _does_ have to wonder if someone’s been playing the mediator for Spy’s end too though, given it only takes Spy a couple more days to show up outside his camper trying to look pragmatic. It’s a good try too, the only nervous tell Sniper notices is how intently he’s chewing at a nearly-out cigarette.

“I thought we could talk. If you have a moment.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“It’s nearly two in the morning, bushman.”

“Maybe I’m busy sleepin’.”

On a better day with better terms they might’ve humoured each other, but Spy’s unamused glare seems too close to getting Sniper another week of awkward avoidance, and he’s a little curious to see what the frenchie has to say for himself. So he huffs out a sigh and steps away from his van’s door, leaving it open as an invitation. Spy takes what he can get, gentlemanly enough to shut it behind him.

Sniper is sorely tempted to crack open one of the whiskeys he’d been saving, but he settles for some water instead and sits back on his mattress while Spy hovers near a countertop. He almost pulls a shirt on with how underdressed Spy’s suit makes him feel, but a binder is basically a croptop if you’re tired enough. “... So?”

That’s all it takes for Spy’s tension to surface, he bites down on the cigar butt hard enough to crush it. “You know what we need to speak about, do not _‘so’_ me. Since you can’t seem to confront me a second time, I thought I would take the initiative like a gentleman, and yet you _continue_ trying to avoid me. Are you going to get over yourself and let us go on with our professional lives, or keep glaring at me in the hall like a child?”

“Oh, so this is all my fault then?” Sniper frowns. “I’m the one avoidin’ you when you’re leavin’ rooms as soon as I walk in?”

“That is _completely_ different, I’m refraining from airing our personal issues to our coworkers.”

“Uh huh. Me askin’ for some commitment outta you is a personal issue that y’need to be keepin’ under wraps now? You’re not bein’ all that mature yourself, actin’ like I asked about your insurance number or somethin'.”

“No, you just asked to compromise my _job_ instead, which you’ve _apparently_ entirely misunderstood at a conceptual level.”

“Does your job really mean all that much out in the middle’a the American desert with nobody for a good fifty miles who cares if you show a bloke your unmentionables?"

“The dedication of some people would surprise you.”

“I really doubt it, mate.”

Spy growls out a sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose and taps his foot on the floor quietly. “Do you really care about what’s inside my pants _that_ much?”

“Well to be honest no, but y’happen to know what’s in _mine_ an’ I’ll admit I don’t like bein’ outta the loop here!”

“Sniper, you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re bein’ a cunt!”

" _Fine_ , if I agree with you, will you stop being difficult?”

“Maybe I’ll stop bein’ difficult when you can at least tell me y’give a damn about me!”

That actually manages to break the argument, Spy stiffening and side-eyeing Sniper with a vague expression, like he was just reminded this is a genuine question people ask sometimes. Apparently he goes for the cliche silence reaction too, and Sniper isn’t interested in leaving him there staring for an hour, even if it’s a tiny bit vindicating to catch him off-guard. He huffs and sets his mug of water down. The whole room feels heavier and his tone automatically lowers to match.

“Look I get it, it’s a complicated question sometimes, but the hell’re you doin’ around me if y’won’t bother tellin’ me anythin’? I can’t even figure out how much to talk about _my_ feelings when I dunno if _y’care_ that much.”

Spy’s silence stretches for a crawling, quiet minute, his eyes staying on Sniper for half of it and then trailing to one of the van’s windows for the rest. His fingers start twitching at his side for the last few seconds, probably itching for a new cig, but he sighs slowly, like he’s lost something important and doesn’t want to admit it.  

“... Can I trust you?”

Sniper’s ready to lash out with sarcasm, _of course you can why did you even start this mess if you could’ve just asked,_ but there’s something vulnerable in Spy’s soft tone, in the way he’s watching Sniper like a hawk for the details of how he responds. He’s so genuine, more than Sniper’s ever seen him act in all the years of being on this job, and it makes his surgically-modded heart beat faster. He’s careful to keep himself from visibly tensing, in case that could be taken as a bad sign.

He’d love to just say yes and let it go, let things drift back into the old status quo where he and Spy are just fucking on the side, be done with the rest of this mess because feelings are damn complicated and he’s never sure what to do when he’s having all of them at once. But ‘yes’ isn’t really what Spy is looking for, if it was then there wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, yes would just say what Sniper wants. It doesn’t say anything about if Sniper really understands.

“I trusted you.”

“Yes, foolish though that is.”

“Hasn’t bitten me in the ass yet, has it?”

“That could change.” He sounds it out too carefully to mean it.

“Nah. You’re better than that.”

“Are you?”

He stares so intently into Sniper’s eyes, and it takes everything Sniper has not to flinch. Here we go. “God, I hope so.”

Spy goes silent again, takes two steady, calculated steps to stand right above Sniper. Just like that he’s the professional mask, vulnerability gone and the real walled-off pragmatism Sniper knows hides any sense of whether or not he’s said the right things. The man icily staring at him could be planning how to stab him in the spine or fantasizing about a candlelit dinner, and nobody would be the wiser. But then he softens, and takes the burnt-out cigarette from his mouth. “Kiss me, Mundy.”

Sniper’s arm reaches up and tugs the frenchman down, pressing their lips together too roughly and wetly, but Spy gasps like he’s missed it all his life and mouths at Sniper’s lower lip. They’re both more desperate than they thought and it shows with how easily they slip into hands roaming each other’s chests, Sniper’s just feeling, holding, squeezing, and Spy’s tugging, pinching the fabric of Sniper’s binder with his leather gloves, clutching so close Sniper can feel the zippers pressing marks into his back. They’re both panting and sucking at the other’s lips, tongues, and it’s so much Sniper can barely breathe, can barely manage to think _fuck, we’ve missed this._  

He doesn’t want to stop, but when Spy’s fingers trail down his torso and try to slip into Sniper’s pants, he knows they need to. “Wait, Spy.”

His fingers do leave, hesitantly, but Sniper can hear his frown, feels it against his mouth. “What is it?”

“Just… just gimme a bit, alright mate? I know we’re excited but,” he laughs, all his nerves showing. “I’d rather not when we just made up, yeah?”

Spy exhales into his face, not that there’s anywhere else he could do so, and he nods. “Sensible of you. Should I leave?”

“Y’want to?”

“Well, I certainly won’t sleep in here with you.”

“This is the place on the cleaner side.”

“Unfortunate. No, I have errands tonight. But it is... not off the table, on another day.”

That’s good enough for Sniper, for now at least. He hums, and kisses the edge of Spy’s mouth again. He tastes fancy smoke and sweat, and it’s satisfying to have again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Answering the existential question of whether your coworker-so-close-you-might-love-him trusts you or not is well and fine, another intrusive question bothering Sniper during stakeouts off the list, and being out on the field afterwards feels like he just got back an arm. If an arm could execute advanced infiltration plans and pre-emptively stab cocky opportunists looking for your sniping points. And, if you could have three arms.

Things are easier between him and Spy after the talk, though there’s something else between them too now, something tangible, kind of intimate. He catches himself sharing glances with Spy for much longer than either of them can usually tolerate, they brush hands in the hall and exchange whispered little warnings on the job, they’re even covering each other more effectively than ever. And then they have to go on with their day, but there’s some lingering comfort and confidence that makes Sniper’s posture more open and upbeat, has him hinting at smiles, god it’s almost like they’re best friends from _school_ or something. Never mind that it’s probably sickening for Medic to regularly walk by.

But, basically, it’s… nice. It feels nice having some sense of security in their otherwise vague relationship, he likes the stability of knowing Spy has some investment in being his fuckable colleague, friend if he wants to get cocky. Still no idea if Spy, y’know, _likes_ him, in a more-than-friends sense, but the mutual trust is really good and he’s not about to ruin it by asking awkward questions about things that might not actually be there. They just happen to have kissed more than once outside of sexual contexts, and that’s not guaranteed to mean anything, you don’t have to love a bloke to kiss him. You could just be really close mates. Excellent coworkers in a highly composite-sensitive team. Starved for affection without necessarily being attracted to each other; there’s _plenty_ of possibilities that definitely aren’t excuses.

 

… _Christ_ does he love kissing that man though, he can force himself to admit there’s a problem when he’s actively _daydreaming_ about Spy’s kisses. He’ll just get caught up thinking about that ghost of a stubble against his face, the smell of tobacco and french cologne, the smile that’s almost a smirk but softer somehow, and it’s so disgustingly _mushy_ that it nearly made Sniper choke on his coffee once during a team breakfast. There’s no way he can genuinely convince himself he’s not just a bit infatuated, not when he’s missed one too many a headshot picturing the two of them cuddling together with their heads buried in each other’s arms, sun streaming in through his van’s windows and all. Sniper didn’t think he could _get_ this sweet.

It’s probably fine. He can handle a crush, who cares if it makes him feel like an awkward teenager all over again, he can be professional. Even if it wasn’t a possible risk to their working relationship courtesy of the higher-ups, he knows Spy gets antsy when people escalate things for him, likes having situations go at his pace, so Sniper’s not going to push their luck. Which is pretty rough on him. There’s something cold about the way Spy sometimes leaves without saying anything, it’s distinct enough that he can tell when Spy didn’t stay for the night without looking over, and Spy’s sweet little parting words only do so much to calm the feeling. It helps, but it’s still lonely. It also makes his heartburn act up, and he’s not entirely sure if that’s totally emotional or one of those side effects Medic failed to specify post-surgery. He definitely shouldn’t be ignoring the second one.

Well, hey, best way to treat a stress-based injury is to deal with the stress right? Might help if either of them were willing to take some initiative and get their sex life out of the closet. Literally.

 

He misses having sex in a bed more than he ever thought he could.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s absolutely unreasonable that it takes Sniper so long to work up the nerve. He can imagine the motions as many times as he wants, but it never comes out as a pleasant experience, so no point in beating around the bush anymore.

His timing definitely doesn’t help. After a long session of some good old god-I’m-so-glad-we-lived snogging in Sniper’s van, they’d had a rough day, Spy’s still pressing kisses to Sniper’s throat in occasional bursts while Sniper tries to hype himself enough to start. Whoever invented social anxiety needs to be shot. His mouth dries up instantly as soon as he opens it, and he nearly closes it again just from that.

“We should uh… we should talk.”

Spy’s lips pause against his neck, leaving him with a second of panic in his chest, and then Spy hums, sits himself upright and leans back into the wall. “Must be bothersome.”

“Says who?” Sniper frowns.

“Says your history of only ever reluctantly instigating conversations.”

Well, Spy’s not wrong, he hates everything about this and every other sensitive talk he’s needed to do in his life. They always highlight his insecurities and aversions in the worst ways, never mind showing what other people think of him, and forcing himself not to dwell on it is making his palms sweat and his binder feel more constrictive than it should. He turned into an excellent procrastinator for a reason.

“So talk.”

“You’re _rushin’_ me.” He smiles, half-joking, but it fades as he rolls his shoulders and straightens his posture to try and brace himself. “... Y’know when we had that one about the trust thing?”

“Months ago. Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting this long to bring something else up.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m bringin’ up. Feels like we haven’t changed what we’re doin’ all that much.”

Spy snorts. “You call the progress we’ve made in the field ‘not much’?”

“Not the _job,_ personal-wise. We jus’ aren’t… I didn’t mean it like that, s’just we’re not givin’ a whole lotta feedback? An’ I’m not about to push you into anythin’, if kissin’ is the limit for you I’m fine leavin’ it of course, y’don’t gotta be doin' somethin’ extra jus’ cause I asked--”

“But you… would like to try something else. Something… more.”

He swallows, it’s loud and nervous in his head, and his fingers pinch at the bedsheets. “... Yeah. Yeah, basically. ”  

Spy’s silent for a while. He’s thoughtful, in that masked sort of way that could be intentional or just habit. It’s not his working mask, Spy can hold that for hours without a break, but it comes close. This one you can actually catch off-guard, startle a twitch out of his lips or brows, but it's subtle enough for most people to miss casually. Sniper can only guess how long it took to train, he’s been trying for years and still loses his composure too easily.

He can’t measure exactly how long it takes for Spy to speak up again, but it feels like an age. “This… what we’ve been doing together, just now, other times. What is this to you?”

“What d’ya mean?” Sniper raises an eyebrow, glancing over. “S’just… kissin’.”

“‘Just’ kissing? I suppose it is ‘just cuddling’ and ‘just sitting together on your bed’ too then, hm?”

“What’s your point?”

“Are you _really_ so dense that you don’t know what this sort of… behaviour means to most people?”

Like Spy’s one to talk about being dense. “I mean sure it’s more than jus’ friendly--”

“It’s romantic, Sniper. This is, in most cases at least, the sort of thing lovers would do together.”

Oh.

Oh _… Oh._ Sniper visibly balks at that. It’s not like he didn’t know on _some_ level that this was way more touchy-feely than most straight blokes ever get, and maybe he’d entertained… well, no. He hadn’t really entertained anything, shut that idea down about as fast as it came to him the first few times. He’d had more doubts about if Spy was even into guys then, and he would never try to pass them off as _together_ without some very blunt conversation between the two of them, not to mention the risks of being out like that. But…

He wouldn’t _mind_ it, if they were… a couple, even privately. Hell, he’d like it, a lot. That sort of thing was just always so out of his reach that he’d never considered it in a practical sense before, hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

“We’ve been bein’... _romantic?_ ”

“Well _yes_ , I thought you _knew_ that.” Spy leans his head against the wall with a thud, he looks and sounds thoroughly exasperated and Sniper really can’t blame him. “My _god,_ Sniper, why _else_ do two men spend this much time regularly kissing each other?”

Sniper wants to say many, _many_ things right now, but he doesn’t manage most of them. “Wh-- y’didn’t _say_ anythin’!”

“I wasn’t aware I needed to!”

“What, y’wanted me to jus’ _assume_ you’re lookin’ to step things up a notch? Y’never said it wasn’t on the side like the sex, an’ I sure as hell dunno what y’might be tryin’a work through!”

“You thought this was me _experimenting?!_ ” Spy looks so indignant, it’d be funny if this wasn’t quite so startling a revelation.

“S’not that outta the question, this is why y’gotta tell me these things!”

“ _Clearly_ ,” Spy grumbles out, scowling and pinching at the bridge of his nose. Sniper doesn’t stop him from fumbling for a cigar, but distantly he is a bit annoyed that his van’s going to need airing out when they’re through with this. The clicks of Spy lighting one feel so sharp that Sniper nearly flinches, and the tension keeps building as Spy takes a stressed drag. Then he exhales out a cloud, and it eases just a bit.

“So. It seems neither of us can manage to communicate intentions _before_ we make our advancements.”

“... Guess not.”

He just sighs, like he was hoping Sniper would try to argue him and they wouldn’t have to face the real issue. “Then I suppose we are both responsible. _Fantastique._ ”

Sniper watches Spy’s face deflate into something jaded, lets his eyes trail to the floor as they stew in their thoughts for a moment. He licks his lips to try and unchap them, though he knows it won’t last. “... Well, better late than never, yeah?”

He gets a signature Spy snort for that. “You still want to?”

“Well, yeah. I mean… who’s uh… y’wanna go first?”

“Only if you don’t.” It’s a joke, but Sniper doesn’t take the opportunity, so Spy does. “... Some of my subtlety is defensive. Partners of mine have a tendency to become targets for blackmail, so… I thought perhaps keeping quiet would lessen the risk.”

Sniper’s lips twitch. “Even if we were bein’ subtle in the first place with the sex, s’not a great preventative measure when I dunno what you’re preventin’.”

“We were being _very_ subtle.” Spy looks like he has something sour to spit out. “Most of our encounters were obscured and you’ve never fully seen me during them.”

“Don’t mean it wasn’t obvious. An’ speakin’ of, am I ever… y’know, gonna get to?” Spy’s fingers suddenly crush the middle of his cigarette and Sniper winces. “... not tryin’a sound pushy, s’just… s’been over a year an’ I’d... like to, eventually.”

“The mystery of my genitals continues to haunt you I see.”

He startles himself with how hard his laugh comes out. “S’not _hauntin'_ me. It’s…” He pauses, struggles to find something he can say that doesn’t sound too vulnerable. You can’t just spill your guts whenever you feel like about how much you want to appreciate a guy in all his naked glory, and he’s not sure how to put into words the feeling of intimacy you get from being able to touch another person’s bare skin, of getting to press kisses to someone’s ribs and hips and feeling all the little unique pieces of another human being. At the same time, trying to pretend it’s some kind of relationship obligation or ‘obvious next step’ would probably just make Spy laugh, which Sniper would agree with. “It’s… it’s not… about your bits, really.”

“No?”

“Yeah.” God he’d better not look embarrassed. “S’like… jus’ gettin’ to see all’ve you at once, like a person an’ not a couple’a hands in the dark, y’know? Bein’ able to appreciate it altogether.”

… Maybe even that was still too emotionally revealing, Spy stares frozen for a few seconds before putting out his ruined cig and tossing it dismissively in his case. Apparently he’s not willing to risk showing his hand though, he shifts the conversation as soon as he finds his voice. “How concerned would you say you are over that possibility of being blackmailed?”

Sniper clears his throat, _get a grip Mundy._ “I’m not gonna pretend it don’t worry me, but s’a bit late for a warnin’. We’ll handle it as it pops up, if y’want us gettin’ involved proper anyway.”

“Do _you_ want us getting properly involved?”

“C’mon, I asked first.”

Spy almost pouts, his right hand’s fingers drumming restlessly near his coat pocket, but he doesn’t grab a second cigarette. It takes him a good minute to work something out with himself. “I _suppose_ the benefits of an enhanced relationship would outweigh the risks for me, and they seem to for you as well, so if we are both in agreement, and understand we can revisit the issue if we find ourselves dissatisfied with the situation--”

“Spy.”

“I was right about to say _yes,_ look who’s being pushy.”

Sniper can’t resist smiling, just a little. “Took you long enough.”

“Oh, well let’s hear you say it then, why don’t we?”

“Ass.” Spy’s turn to smile, he had Sniper there. “... I’d like goin’ steady with you, yeah. Even if y’took a whole year to tell me y’love me.”

“Perhaps we could have said it sooner if you were better at noticing hints right in front of you,” Spy remarks, barely hiding the amusement in his face or his tone.

“Where’d that ‘it’s both our faults’ idea of yours go?”

“I can’t say I recall, perhaps I was too distracted with seducing you.”

“Bloody great seduction if I don’t even notice.”

“A statistical anomaly.”

“Y’got cocky.”

“My abilities _are_ unmatched in many fields.”

“What, murder an’ theatre?”

Spy laughs at that, it’s rough and higher pitched, but it’s very like him. Sniper grins, first time in a while, and when Spy’s fingers delicately brush over his hand he loosely laces their fingers together. Something in him must’ve been expecting Spy to pull away, the wave of relief he feels when Spy gently squeezes at their hands is incredible, finally gives him room to breathe.

“Did I say I love you, before?”

“Huh?” Sniper snaps up, blinks owlishly. “Oh, I was uh, y’know.” He clears his throat, fails to be discreet about it. “Y’said you’d been hinting, I just kinda-- I figured-- I mean if I’m wrong--”

“I love you.”

That successfully startles him into shutting up, leaving Spy smirking triumphantly. “You spend a lot of time second-guessing yourself, for a sniper.”

He takes a minute to get over staring, doesn't think to stop a soft laugh. His gaze finally shifts to the floor and he manages a murmur. “Love you too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

What surprises Sniper the most is that it happens without any warning.

In retrospect, he could’ve caught on much quicker and been less huffy about it, would’ve done if he’d gotten some kind of heads-up or hadn’t been mid-handjob.

 

They'd had yet to really fuck in Sniper’s van unsurprisingly, it’s not nearly private enough for Spy’s taste with multiple windows, thin walls, sitting right outside the base, but he still managed to give Sniper the occasional quickie when they were both in a good mood. Sniper liked them a lot, rare though they were, Spy still knew what he was doing without any penetration, and they got to face each other. _And_ they were on a _bed,_ which felt like a genuine godsend after how bloody long leaning on hard boxes.

So, y’know, he really didn’t want to miss out. Spy was already in his trousers massaging around his front hole, no glove, and in the moment he entirely missed if Spy was being a little slower and tenser than usual. Spy just pulls his hand out suddenly in the middle of getting Sniper hard, he’s a bit hesitant and he looks like he just swallowed a lemon, which is definitely concerning, but Sniper’s pretty horny and he groans shortly. “Y’better not be about to throw up in my van.”

“No, I’m--” Spy swallows something down, likely pride or anxiety, maybe both, and his still-gloved left hand reaches for his coat pocket before he sharply stops himself. “I-- just… just wait.”

And that’s out of character enough for Sniper to snap himself out of his boner haze. “Y’alright? Spy?”

Sniper manages eye contact with Spy for a split second, but his worried look seems to make Spy feel worse and he rushes to sit up from Sniper’s bed. He keeps his eyes on the floor, bites his lip hard enough for Sniper to see some blood, and it takes him a good minute of his mouth opening and closing before he manages words again.

“ _Je--_ I… please, I-- there’s… something. Y-you have blinds, close them.”

“What?” It’s an unnecessary question, Sniper’s already getting up as Spy says it and reaching to cover the larger windows. He has smaller ones on his doors that he almost leaves, but when Spy’s still eyeing them like he’s staring death in the face Sniper slaps a bit of stray tape on a couple loose flyers (stained, decade old ads for some wallaby wrestling) and shoves them over the tiny ports. It’s inefficient, probably gross, but Spy lets out a sigh of relief and both of them feel a little better.

“ _Merci, merci…_ ” Spy coughs, really struggling to avoid a cigarette now, and he stands to start tugging at his suit collar. Sniper doesn’t catch onto what he’s doing until he’s pulled his tie out and folded it over his shoulder.

“Shit, Spy, the _hell--_ ”

“Don’t. I cannot be sure, so I must ask you not to describe what you see in detail.” The suit’s unbuttoned so fast Sniper barely sees the motions, but he can’t peel his eyes away from Spy tugging his arms out from the sleeves to reveal his plain white undershirt, and pulling his remaining glove off with his teeth.

“ _Mate_ slow down, I don’t even know what’s goin’ _on_ _,_ y’feelin’ alright?”

“I will when I have cleared my conscience of this.”

“You have one’a those?” Sniper jokes. It falls flat when Spy doesn’t even hint a smile, just throws his suit coat on a countertop along with his glove and tie. “Hey hey, y’gotta talk with me about this, the hell’re you _doin’?_ ”

Sniper almost thinks he’s not going to get anything out of Spy as he grits his teeth and foregoes undoing his undershirt, but then his fingers trail to his suit pants’ top button and his hands start shaking, can’t manage to find a grip on the fabric. Sniper almost wonders if Spy’s going to cry, and how the fuck they’d even manage something like that.

He pushes past the thought, steps up and closes the gap between them instead. His palms rest on Spy’s upper arms, steadying without trying to be restrictive. “Are you… s’this what I think it is?”

Spy takes a slow, fluttering breath, looks more grounded leaning into Sniper’s hands, and his fingers withdraw from his button fly. “I want to do it, it needs to be done eventually. I thought--... I thought I could handle it now, without… upsetting myself.”

“Y’know we don’t _have_ to--”

“I _want_ to, and if I do not now then I may never. I’m _tired_ Mundy, I’m tired of being so bothered by this, hiding myself from you.”

“Y’don’t owe me this.”

“Of course I don’t _owe_ you, no more than you owed me the knowledge of your body. This is… this relationship, _our_ relationship, they’re about trust, risk. Raised stakes.” Spy pauses, looks up at Sniper’s wide eyes. “You raised your stakes much higher than I ever have. I want us to be even, I want to risk something. I want you to _know_ I trust you.”

Just hearing Spy put it into words makes Sniper’s whole body feel heavy, so down to earth and hyperaware of how close together they are, how their chests are rising and falling out of sync. He feels like he could fall any second now, and he leans his forehead against the masked man in front of him, slides his hands down to hold Spy’s.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay. Y’don’t… Y’can ask for help, y’don’t gotta to do it by yourself, if it’s too much.”

Spy inhales. “Yes, yes please. On the bed.”

“Spies first.” They both snort and relax, just a bit. Neither of them are willing to let go, so they stumble into the mattress clumsily with their lips caught together and mouthing at each other. It’s familiar, reaffirming, warm, and they draw it out until Sniper’s hands find themselves on Spy’s still-buttoned undershirt. They hesitantly pull apart, and Sniper has to break the silence first.

“Y’want… should I start here?”

Spy nods, lets his head falls back onto the mattress. “There is… yes. There is best.”

Sniper nods back, already thumbing at the top button, and he undoes it with Spy’s go-ahead. His fingers can’t do buttons fast in general, he stutters and fumbles too easily, but he doesn’t need to be fast right now, thankfully. His main concern is taking it slow, keeping his touches light, whatever he can do to ease Spy through the process, and above all watch Spy for any hints he needs to stop. He comes pretty close, the third button has Spy breathing heavier, and on the fifth his right shoulder twitches like he was going to grab for something. By the last button Spy’s shut his eyes and scrunched his face up, like it’s taking most of his willpower to not throw Sniper’s arm, and he only looks at Sniper again after a several second-long pause of his fingers. He does give a nod, forces his expression to look neutral in an attempt to be reassuring, but it’s not very convincing. 

He’s never really been sure what Spy’s got under all his clothes. Sniper won’t lie and say he hasn’t thought about it a bit, it’s hard not to when a guy won’t give you anything but the vaguest of hints, but his most extreme guesses have been that there’s something recognizable enough to identify Spy, old tattoo or obvious scar most likely. Spy might just be particularly dysmorphic about something, or generally hate how he looks, and Sniper won’t get judgemental over that, not with his own dysphoria, manageable though it is. Bottom line, how Spy looks naked isn’t going to change that he loves the bloke, even if he does end up finding the most embarrassing homemade tattoo in existence. Something like the Eiffel Tower smoking a cigar and wearing one of those french painter hats. He might love Spy even more if he found that.

But Spy isn’t thinking like that. This is putting a lot on the line for him, his job not the least of them, just because Sniper’s stuck with him this long, and Sniper genuinely appreciates that, even if ride or die is a little extreme for a next step relationship-bonding experience in his humble aussie opinion. It’s no wonder Spy looks on the edge of dissociating.

“Y’still with me?”

“It’s an uphill battle. But yes.”

Sniper exhales, nods. His fingers brush at the sliver of exposed skin in Spy’s shirt, lingering at his collarbone and the end of his sternum, before Sniper finally peels half the fabric away to see the rest. Spy shifts under him, pulling at the other side of the shirt and shimmying out of his sleeves.

There’s literally nothing else Sniper could’ve expected other than a chest, but he’s still surprised to see Spy has a completely normal torso. There’s stretchmarks near his shoulders and stomach pudge like every other human on earth, innie bellybutton, sparse body hair, no tattoos. Really the only thing that makes Sniper second guess himself is that Spy has no nipples.

“Uh--”

“No detail.”

He clamps his mouth shut immediately, though it’s a genuine struggle. Can’t ask a bloke where his nipples went, alright, fine. He’s so caught up in racking his brain for explanations that it takes him half a minute to notice the scars.

Just two, clean and faded, must be several years old. They cross over where Spy’s nipples would be if he still had them. Top surgery is something Sniper had looked into for himself once he’d managed to earn his first couple paychecks, though he’d decided against it after looking at what most surgeons could offer. It wasn’t what he’d wanted for himself at the time, but he could understand why it would be for Spy. Sympathized with him, even.

“I’m sure you know what they are.”

He realizes too late that he’s staring and looks up at Spy’s grim frown, but he’s not sure he can say anything without forgetting to keep it vague, or worsening Spy’s feelings. So he opts to nod, it’s slow and feels almost dreamy, and he gently brushes his fingers a few inches above Spy’s scars. He can feel Spy’s breathing under him, tense and calculated, waiting for some kind of judgement.

“... Can I...  kiss you here?”

Spy inhales sharply, snaps his gaze to Sniper with the sort of look you give to a conspiracy theorist in public. “What?”

“Can I?”

There’s a long, silent moment where Spy’s biting at his lip, eyeing Sniper for hints of humour, but he finally nods, just once, and it’s enough. Sniper leans in close to Spy’s clavicle with caution and presses his lips to Spy’s skin, shifts one of his arms to gently slide up along Spy’s ribs. He doesn’t move far from Spy’s throat until he feels Spy relaxing, and then he’s follows Spy’s sternum with lingering kisses and soft touches on Spy’s back. He knows not to touch the scars, not when he can’t even vocally acknowledge them, but he doesn’t need to, now or ever. When he reaches Spy’s stomach he feels the man under him shrink from the lightness, and they both laugh quietly, hesitantly.

“I didn’t think that... you might be too.”

Spy laughs again, it’s bubbling and sad and it makes Sniper want to lean into his stomach even more. “You weren't supposed to.”

Sniper winces, sniffles a bit. He has no idea how to convey just how much he loves Spy right in this moment, just how much he understands and sympathizes. Ultimately, he’ll never be able to articulate it, not really, so he settles for pressing another set of kisses to the edges of Spy’s ribcage and loosely hugging Spy’s torso. They’re so close Sniper can mistake Spy’s heartbeat for his own, and it’s so much warmer and shakier than anything they’ve done before, he feels like his chest is going to burst in a weirdly comforting way. He’s not sure if Spy hears him mumble “love you” into his stomach, but Spy laces his fingers into Sniper’s stray hand.

“This as far as y’wanted to go?” Sniper tilts his head up to look at Spy, in the middle of chewing at his lip more.

“I’d… hoped I could go further, but I’m already pushing myself. This is all that’s necessary."

Sniper shifts, slides his arm out from under Spy and pushes himself up to be eye-level with Spy. “I don’t uh… I mean, y’didn’t… y’didn’t have to. Thank you, for… for trustin’ me.”

Spy smiles, first lasting one since they started, and he wraps an arm around Sniper’s back with a soft sigh. “Now we are… closer to even, at least.”

“S’that mean we can stop fucking with the light off?”

They both laugh, Sniper kisses Spy’s forehead and pulls the forgotten undershirt over Spy’s back. It seems more comfortable for him, and he gently runs a finger down Sniper’s spine. “I really love you.”

Sniper’s other arm aches from how he was leaning on it to stay above Spy, but he rests it over Spy’s side and just hugs him, feels both of them slowly breathing out of sync. It’s comforting, easing, lets them melt into each other and finally push their worries away.

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we Made it boys holy Shit with only like ten mood ruining jokes, we did it! wow!

**Author's Note:**

> i highly doubt thisll be the last trans fic i post if you enjoyed it, i have [another one around](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12604584) if you've got a Yearning for more trans validation!! i'm also [on tumblr](http://proxima-c-entauri.tumblr.com/) with trans art, which i post at a higher frequency than my writing
> 
> hope you have a good day!!!!


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